


A Star and a Shield (revised for TJH)

by bittenfeld



Category: T. J. Hooker (TV)
Genre: Death, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Police Assassination, Slash, Sniper - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was originally posted as a CHiPs story which I later revised and expanded for T.J. Hooker.</p><p>Corrigan is suffering from depression after a rookie trainee assigned to him is killed on their very first day together out on the streets.  He’s questioning his ability to remain on the force, but his lover, Hooker, helps him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Star and a Shield (revised for TJH)

From behind the steering wheel of his patrol car, Police Agent Jim Corrigan stared mesmerized at the little suburban intersection. It was empty now. Two o’clock in the morning, and not a car in sight. The street crews had come in and cleaned up the wreckage, swept away the broken glass, and swabbed off the blood. Six weeks past, and no sign that it had ever happened.

Damn, it should never have happened anyway. The kid hadn't deserved to die. Brand new rookie, fresh from the Academy, with his shiny new badge, and a .38 at his hip, and a copy of the Vehicle Code under his arm – killed on his first day out on the street, on his very first call.

Corrigan had been assigned as his field training officer. They had responded to a multiple-vehicle traffic collision: multiple injuries with wreckage strewn from here to hell. A sobering call for any cop – and particularly first day out on the street – but certainly not a dangerous one for the responders. And Officer Greene had gotten right to work with all the usual self-assurance and confidence that rookie cops fresh from the Academy always exhibit before they discover the realities of the world. But that was all right, he would have learned. This call might have taken them an hour to complete, maybe a little more, and then they’d have been rolling again.

They never saw the sniper. Later on, witnesses would come forth to describe a passing blue sedan with three passengers and a pistol barrel stuck out the back window, which had fired upon the accident scene as the vehicle sped by. But at the time, Corrigan and Greene were too busy to notice while they treated the victims and took notes, and awaited the arrival of the ambulance and tow-truck. And all Corrigan remembered was hearing two quick pops like firecrackers, and then he was down on the asphalt with searing pain in his neck and chest; and Jonny Greene was crumpled beside him, half his head blown away.

Dammit, it just wasn’t supposed to happen that way at all. It was like those crazy Hollywood war movies, where the new kid on the squad, first time out in the action, who carried his girlfriend’s locket as a lucky charm, was invariably the first one blown to kingdom come. It was so predictable, you could bet your six-pack of Coors on it.

Only this wasn’t Hollywood, and Greene probably didn’t carry his girlfriend’s locket with him. Just his shiny new badge, and a .38 at his hip, and a copy of the Vehicle Code under his arm.

A sickness trembled in Corrigan’s gut, and the throbbing had started up again in his neck and shoulder. The bandage chafed beneath his uniform collar. Maybe he should call it a night for tonight, and just go back to Central and finish the mound of reports and affidavits that still awaited his attention. After four weeks off on medical leave to recuperate, and eleven days back at the office to sit at a desk and play with paperwork, he’d begged the watch commander for a cruiser again, and the sergeant had relented on the condition that he come back in if it got to be too much for him. Corrigan had agreed, silently determining to stay out at least half the shift. But after two-and-a-half hours stopping speeders and drunks, he was ready to pack it in and get off the road. Funny, he didn’t remember that chasing speeders and drunks was so exhausting.

He reached for the mike, and thumbed the button. “LC, 4-Adam-16. Requesting 10-19.”

The radio crackled – it was a bad transmission, and he was almost out of range – then the dispatcher came through: “4-Adam-16. 10-19.”

“10-4, LC,” he responded, and hung the mike back.  
* * * * *

The warm aroma of morning coffee greeted his nostrils as he opened the door and entered the apartment he shared with Hooker. Some of the night’s depression lifted as he left the streets behind for the rest of the weekend.

“Hey, partner.” From across the breakfast bar, clad in a wine-velour robe, Hooker grinned at his room-mate. “You’re just in time for breakfast. Corn fritters and eggs benedict. Have a seat.” He shoved a cup of coffee in Corrigan’s direction.

But Corrigan raised a declining hand. “Thanks but no thanks, T.J. This is my bedtime. No coffee for me ‘til later. By the way, what are you still doing here? I thought you were working today, teaching the PC-832 class at the Academy.” Jacket got hung on the hall-tree by the door, then he tugged his holster off the back of his jeans waistband and set the snub-nosed Colt on the bar next to the steaming coffee cup.

Swiping the unwanted brew, the older man agreed, “I am, today and next Saturday. But only the afternoon session, so I don’t have to in until ten-thirty or so. Hour-and-a-half away. I slept in this morning – just got up twenty minutes ago.” Pulling up a stool, he looked over his partner with a smile. “So, how did watch go? Still chained to a desk, or did they let you outside finally?”

“Little bit of both. Washburn couldn’t stand my griping an longer, so he kicked me out for a few hours. Then back to the desk. Y’know, I’m actually caught up on all my paper-work? Hell, that’s un-American. I even worked a little on some of your affidavits.” Wallet and badge got laid beside the holster on the counter.

“Hey, thanks, partner.”

“What are partners for, huh?” And hooking a boot toe around a stool leg, Corrigan dragged the seat closer, then swung a hip up. “Oh, by the way, you remember the East Hills 459 suspect? Robinson and Wilson picked him up tonight. Caught him in the act, breaking into a condo on Laurel Place.”

A nod of curly brown head. “Thank god. That bastard’s been evading us longer than we should’ve let him. He won’t stand a chance now. Robinson puts together tight cases. She’s good.”

“Yeah.” Without asking permission, Corrigan appropriated his partner’s half-full glass of orange juice, took a swallow, then sat there, frowning down at the counter-top, lost in thought. Aimlessly one finger rubbed the condensed moisture on the glass, as he mentioned tentatively, “I, uh, drove by the intersection at 4th and Ashton tonight… just can’t get the incident out of my mind.” Dejection furrowed wrinkles between his eyes. “… damn…”

A comforting hand rested on his shoulder, as Hooker leaned a little closer. “No one expects you to, Jim. Barely six weeks ago – you lost your trainee, and took a slug that could’ve killed you. I know what you’re going through. You’re handling it a lot better than a lot of guys would.”

Corrigan snuffed a deprecating nose. “Yeah, get up, get back on the job before you’re too scared shitless to face it anymore… well, too bad Jonny Greene will never have that second chance.”

“I know.” The hand squeezed sympathetically, kind hazel eyes offered support. “Greene was one of my top students – the other instructors thought a lot of him too. He’d’ve made a good cop.”

Corrigan’s finger squeaked on the rim of the glass. “He was only twenty-two years old. I didn’t even get a chance to know the kid, other than reading his personnel file. I just met him when he was assigned to me that Wednesday night; Thursday morning we rolled at oh-eight-hundred; by oh-nine-forty he was dead. I feel like I did something wrong… I was his T.O., it was my responsibility to protect him, train him properly… hell, I didn’t even have to train him at all, properly or not.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jim,” Hooker insisted gently. “No one could have foreseen a situation like that going down. It was just freak bad luck. At least we got the guys who did it, and thy aren’t going to beat the rap – not with fifteen eyewitnesses. It wasn’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t bring Greene back.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Nursing the juice absently, the younger man inquired, “Have you ever lost a trainee assigned to you, Hooker?”

Hooker’s head shook. “No, not during training. We’ve had a few go down later, after they were out on their own, officers whom I remember teaching… and it’s always a little tougher when it’s an ex-student – you wonder if you could have trained them better. But no matter how much policy and procedure you stuff into the cadets’ minds, you know you can’t possibly warn them about every complicating factor out there in the real world. Accidents happen. Bad judgments are made that cost lives. And they’ll continue to be made.”

“Yeah.”

Then sliding a hand down his friend’s arm, Hooker offered, “Listen, would you like to do something when I get off work this afternoon? How about loading up the truck and going out to the lake for the rest of the weekend? Fishing’s real good now, I hear.” His fingers clasped Corrigan’s, thumb rubbed over the knuckles.

“Sure, that sounds good.” Lightly Corrigan returned the friendly caress. “But right now, I just want to go to bed… although I’m so wired, I don’t know if I’ll be able to fall asleep. I’m dead on my feet, but my eyes don’t want to close.”

Hooker slid off his stool; stepped up close behind the other man, took his shoulders and gently kissed his nape. “You want some help to relax?” Another kiss, then a tongue-tip flicked out to trail behind one ear.

The unexpected sensation tingled right through to Corrigan’s solar plexus and he jerked, then smiled a more relaxed smile. Moist lips experimented with another spot and got the same pleasant reaction. Warm arms encircled his arms and chest.

“All right,” Corrigan yielded beneath the pleasurable assault, “yes, I could definitely use some help. But do we have enough time before you have to leave for work?”

A purr murmured in his ear; teeth nipped his earlobe. “Mm… I told you I don’t have to check in until ten-thirty. That give us more than an hour to get you to sleep. C’mon.”

Allowing Hooker’s enthusiasm to lighten some of the gloom which had been weighing him down, Corrigan followed his partner into the bedroom. The large double-bed was still unmade. He began removing his boots and socks, while Hooker untied his robe and tossed it aside. Beneath the robe Hooker wore briefs, but he didn’t remove the underwear. Evidently that unveiling would be left to Corrigan.

Hooker sat against the headboard while Corrigan’s shirt and jeans landed on top of the shoes and socks on the floor. He was grinning at the younger dark-haired man. “You know what I like?” he commented. “I like watching you undress. Sometimes in the locker room together, I nearly get a hard-on just watching you change into your uniform. And when we’re wrestling in the gym, I’m always afraid someone’s going to notice the bulge I’ve got stuffed in my jockstrap.”

Deliberately allowing Hooker an eyeful of a slender discipline-hard body, Corrigan approached the bed, drew one knee up onto the mattress. He’d left his shorts on too, as well as the bandage covering the right side of his neck. “Well, you want to know what _I_ think about in the locker room, T.J.?”

Invitingly Hooker’s knees sprawled apart as Corrigan crawled toward him. “What?”

Corrigan lay face-down between the offered legs, upper body propped up on elbows. “I think about bending you over one of the benches and spreading you in front of the whole watch, then practicing search techniques on your body.”

“You wouldn’t,” Hooker accused suspiciously.

“Sure would. But I’d wait ‘til the captain was there too, so he could appraise my technique.”

An acceding eyebrow raised. “Remind me never to be changing clothes when Sheridan is around.”

“Oh, you’ll never know when it’s gonna happen, T.J. Some day, partner, some day.”

Abruptly Hooker grabbed the other man’s wrists, yanked his arms out from under him, dragged him closer, caught his legs in a scissors-lock. Face tightened belligerently. “How’d you like me to practice take-down techniques on you in the shower room some day, mister?”

But Corrigan only made innocent eyes at him. “Ooh, is that a promise, Sarge?”

“That’s a promise.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’ll just bet you are.” Then pulling his partner a couple inches closer, Hooker closed the distance between them with a hard kiss full on the mouth.

Compliantly the younger man melted into the kiss with a contented moan. Tongues met and greeted each other, sharing tastes of orange juice and coffee; teeth bumped; lips slid and pressed, experimenting for the erotic contact.

Slipping a hand up to Corrigan’s head, Hooker carded his fingers through thick black waves, clutched a fistful; while his other hand stroked down a hard-muscled back. The pressure between their bodies tingled all sorts of delights up and down Corrigan’s nerves. Nipples met nipples, erecting as they rubbed against each other, genitals squeezed together through the cloth of their shorts.

Then breaking the kiss, Corrigan sat up, spraddling his lover’s thighs, while Hooker propped himself up against the pillows. Fingers plucked at the sparse grey hairs curling around the older man’s tits and down the torsal mid-line. Hooker’s body might not be a sleek and tight as it had been thirty years before, but five-and-a-half decades oof living did that to a man, and Corrigan never expressed any complaints. Beside, he had nearly fifty years of his own to show for, and anyway, they both worked out three times a week to keep in shape for the rigors of the job – not to mention the rigors of their bedtime together.

Sensually Corrigan rotated his hips on top of his partner, hands sliding down Hooker’s belly to the waistband of his briefs. “Let’s see what you got there, lover,” he murmured huskily, pulling off the last obstruction to the view of his bed-mate’s body.

“It’s all your, partner,” Hooker offered, lifting his hips as best he could beneath Corrigan’s weight, to assist the removal of his clothing.

A toss of the unwanted object to the floor, then Corrigan returned his interest to the dark pink swelling flesh rising to meet him. Lightly he teased the rose glans peeking from its foreskin, and felt the eager flesh respond excitedly. The back of a fingernail glided down a vein-ridged shaft to its base, back up again, then warm fingers closed about the thick organ.

Hooker sucked a breath. “Dammit, Jim, you always make it feel so good!...”

“I’ll bet you say that to all your partners.”

“Not all…” – a ragged breath – “… just the ones I share room and board – and bed – with… oh god Jim!” A slow milking stroke sizzled electricity right down Hooker’s legs, and involuntarily he kicked.

Corrigan just smiled and rode the bucking body beneath him. Thumb and forefinger ringed the begging organ and firmly stripped it from base to tip, while Hooker thrashed helplessly. “Putty in my hands,” the younger man smirked, adding a jerky little twist to his manipulations. Desperately the blood-darkened head poked out of its sheath, seeking the friendly fingers, but the teasing digits withheld satisfaction. Then stilling his action, Corrigan closed his fist once more and just held the hardening flesh, feeling the blood vessels throb against his palm.

Hooker moaned utter dissolution as a playful thumb skated ever so lightly around his smooth warm glans, and arched his back to try to move in the warm grip of his lover. Sensually Corrigan leaned down and brushed his lips against the soft skin, then tongued the urethral slit until a groan of complete surrender escaped from Hooker’s throat.

“Jim…”

“Mm?” The light caress shifted to gentle mouthing and exploratory tonguing.

“I thought… this was for you… oh god Jim, I can’t think straight when you do that to me…!”

“Good. You’re not supposed to think straight,” – another gentle suck – “…when I do this to you either.”

Hooker writhed wantonly beneath Corrigan’s attention. “Yeah, but… I thought you were the one… we were trying to relax…”

Teasingly Corrigan’s lips traced a trail up Hooker’s chest to his face. “I get very relaxed… playing with your body, T.J.… Unless you want me to stop…”

“No…no… it’s just that – ” Suddenly Hooker grabbed him, pushed a hand into Corrigan’s briefs, between his legs, to palm his testicles; and peremptorily insisted, “ – I want to do this to you instead!”

“T.J.!” Corrigan practically choked with laughter, and doubled over Hooker’s body. Firmly the hand squeezed and pulled, squeezed and pulled; and Corrigan wriggled a little, feeling the sensitive length of his cock pass back and forth against a hairy forearm. Again he leaned forward to kiss Hooker’s mouth; shoved his tongue in deep. And as he impaled Hooker’s throat, Hooker unexpectedly inserted a finger up his ass. A groan of incredible excitement moaned from Corrigan’s throat as the finger worked in deeper; and pushing down against Hooker’s hand pressed to his crotch, allowed the man to rock him slightly. The probing digit rubbed him internally in the moist warmth of his rectum, sending electric stings right down the shaft of his penis, and pre-sem started oozing from his channel.

Gasping for breath, Corrigan broke the kiss, hips still squirming against the pressure of a warm palm. “T.J.…” he panted, “don’t make me… come this way… I wanna do it… up your ass…”

“You sure?” Hooker murmured, lips touching Corrigan's face, and finger still working its magic through the tight ring of muscle.

“C’mon, roll over,” Corrigan urged, disengaging from his partner’s intimate grip.

Obligingly Hooker rolled over, face resting between his forearms and rump in the air, while Corrigan hurriedly stripped off his own shorts. Then kneeling between Hooker’s spread knees, he began to caress the smooth, slightly clammy skin of the older man’s buttocks, and the small of his back.

“You know what I like best about you, T.J.? the darker brunet ventured. “Your ass.”

Sensually Hooker moved his behind in counterpoint to Corrigan’s stroking. “I thought it was my sparkling personality.”

“Naah, your ass. I think a lot about looking at it, touching it… stuffing something up it…”

“You’re a pervert, you know that?”

“Sure – have been all my life.” Gently the younger man began to slide a finger into the tender little anus presented to him, to prepare it for his thick heavy cock.

Hooker’s own organ was weeping pre-cum onto the sheets. “How did you ever pass the psych tests to get into the PD?”

Corrigan shrugged and continued to massage the eager opening of Hooker’s body. “Nobody ever asked me what I thought about your ass… of course, seventeen years ago, I didn’t know about your ass.”

“… or you’d’ve been stuffing things up it back then.”

“You got it, partner.” Then unable to wait a moment longer, Corrigan pulled out his finger and guided his stiff prod to the entrance. “And right now, that’s exactly… what I want to do…” Firmly he inserted his organ into the warm slick tunnel, eliciting a helpless moan from Hooker’s lips, then began pumping rhythmically. Hooker squirmed on the swollen intruder that slipped in and out of his warmth, then began squeezing his anus, working it, gripping and relaxing, gripping and relaxing; and Corrigan didn’t think he could last another minute with Hooker’s muscles doing that to him.

Then taking hold of Hooker’s waist, he got serious, hips pistoning reflexively, slamming and slamming into the satin sheath. Both men grunted with exertion, reared and bucked, as they raced toward climax. Just as Corrigan sensed his testicles move and his prostate tighten, he felt Hooker stiffen suddenly; and from the older man’s cock jouncing against a firm belly spurted several jolts of semen. And then Corrigan lost control; and his fluid flooded Hooker’s insides, while each man’s intensity tried to out-do the other’s, wrenching breath and wringing sweat and trip-hammering hearts.

Carefully Corrigan withdrew his softening but still swollen organ from the warm damp channel. Fluid dribbled out of Hooker’s body and stained the sheets, but it didn’t matter; and the two men sprawled together on the disheveled bed, embracing each other loosely, sharing gentle kisses.

For a long time they lay there, Hooker’s arm around his friend’s shoulders. Fondly he looked at the man relaxed against his body. “Jim,” he murmured his lover’s name.

“Mm?” Contentedly Corrigan resettled himself into the curves and planes of his partner’s body.

“You feeling better now?” Lips and nose nuzzled dark wavy hair.

“Mm hm. Thanks.”

A little kiss. “Jim, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what?”

A tender hand drifted across sweaty fluttering skin, soothing, easing. “You know, the next Academy class graduates in three weeks. I’d really like to assign a trainee rider to you again. How do you feel about that?”

Corrigan didn’t answer for awhile; let his fingers slide aimlessly over his bed-mate’s belly.

“You’re the best training officer on the force,” Hooker coaxed gently. “I’d hate to see you leave the program. But I understand what you’re going through right now.”

Corrigan’s head shook. “No, I know I can’t work myself into a funk over what happened. You’re right. Just give me those three weeks, T.J., then I’ll be ready to take on another student… It’s just kind of tough to think about it right now.”

“I know.”

The younger man smiled. “And, partner… I’m not the best T.O. on the force – you are. I just copy you.”

Hooker shrugged. “All I know is, your rookies always place at the top of the final evals. So you must be doing something right. And speaking of teaching…” he grunted and dragged himself up to a sitting position, “I guess I better get up and shower and prepare to meet this afternoon’s class. Have we got you taken care of for the next few hours?”

“Oh yeah. I’m so relaxed and limp, I don’t intend to move from this bed ‘til you get back.”

“Good. Then you can help put me to sleep.”

Corrigan grinned contentedly. “Anything for you, T.J. Anything at all.”

  
* * * * * **FINIS** * * * * *


End file.
